


Thorin vs the Kitten

by KBBearen (KDRBear)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Consort Bilbo Baggins, Fluff, M/M, buttons the cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 00:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16985055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDRBear/pseuds/KBBearen
Summary: With Thorin working so many nights, Bilbo accepts a kitten as a companion.  However, Thorin is absolutely confounded by this creature that doesn't speak any language he knows.  How do you bond with a creature that doesn't speak?  And what do you mean 'not a working animal'?Bilbo adopts a pet and Thorin must adapt.





	Thorin vs the Kitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CottonGuardian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CottonGuardian/gifts).



> Based loosely on my own experience of adopting a cat without consulting with my husband first.
> 
> Happy Hobbit Holiday and I sincerely hope you're a cat person.

Day by day the restoration efforts were coming along. While much of the royal palace had suffered at the claws of the dragon, as well as the forges and parts of the mines thanks to their mad plan, the most damage done to the residential areas was dealt by time and disuse. As such, Erebor was able to welcome home the dwarves of the Blue Mountains that flowed east as the spring thawed the passes. The first spring thaw brought few that were able to uproot their lives at a moment’s notice of the mountain won, but this second spring promised a wave of new residents. Of course, between restoring old family properties, guild disputes, guild vacancies, and the general minutiae of governing a growing populace, this created a new mountain of paperwork and very late nights for the king and his advisors.

On one such night, Thorin, King Under the Mountain of Paperwork, stumbled into his shared chambers hoping for a good supper and quiet evening with his Consort. He doffed his boots none too gracefully by the door, as his finicky Hobbit demanded, and wandered into the living space.

Bilbo poked his head out of their kitchenette as he heard the boots drop at the door. “Oh, there you are, Thorin. I thought I’d be eating alone again tonight. Oh, Dearheart, you look exhausted. The weavers’ guild at it again?” He pressed a kiss against Thorin’s cheek. “Here, sit, sit and I’ll get supper served in a minute.”

“Aye, and don’t even get me started on the seamstress guild.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t upset them, if I were you; you’ll never have a straight inseam the rest of your life!”

Thorin chuckled and gladly slumped towards his preferred armchair, ready to throw himself down, until he saw a little orange beast sleeping soundly in the middle of his seat. He paused.

“Oh, Thorin! Maybe take my armchair for tonight!” Bilbo called from the kitchenette.

“No, I’ll take my own seat, just a moment,” he called over his shoulder. “This is my seat, you need to move now,” Thorin spoke firmly to the orange ball. When he didn’t receive a response, he put his hand gently on where a shoulder should be. “You need to move now.”

Two bright green eyes blinked up at him, a face materializing from the fluff, and a questioning little “Murr?”

Strange, he couldn’t quite catch the dialect. Speaking slowly, he repeated himself as he started to scoop up the furball. “I said, ‘You need to-’ Yeouch!” In all his years in both training rings and battle, the rookery and the forge, never had such fiendishly sharp weapons pierced his weathered hands. Thorin instantly dropped the small cat, which went skittering under the armchair.

“Thorin! What happened?” Bilbo came around the corner with a kitchen knife. Assassins may not be likely this far into the mountain, but one never knew. No blood, nothing out of place other than his husband standing awkwardly staring his empty armchair. The seat may have been empty, but an orange paw darted from underneath to take a swipe at his husband’s tiny socked foot. Bilbo lowered his knife with a grin. “I told you to take my chair.”

“You know of this beast?” Thorin asked, moving his feet out of range of the tiny paws. “If it has been bothering you, you should have called.”

Bilbo clicked his tongue and crouched by the chair, offering his hand. “Thorin, he’s a cat, not a beast. And yes, I know of him because I brought him here.” He switched to a soft voice. “Come here, Buttons, come on out.”

“I know what a cat is, I’ve seen them around Mannish towns, but why would you bring one into our chambers? Careful, Ghivashel, the thing seems wild.” Thorin tried to get a look under the chair as well, waiting for the claws to strike his husband.

“Nonsense, you just startled him is all. Come on, Buttons, here kitty, kitty. There we go.” Bilbo pulled the cat from under the armchair and tucked him comfortably in one arm, turning to show Thorin. “And I brought him here because I thought it’d be nice to have a pet around. Gets awfully lonely with all the long nights you’ve been working recently. Not that I’m blaming you, I understand how much work restoring the mountain is for everyone.” He turned to keep the cat further from Thorin while still leaning in for a quick kiss. “But Bain’s mouser had a litter this spring, and Bard offered me one when I was in Dale today, so I said yes.”

Thorin gladly kissed him back, just a quick peck, as his eyes were still on the orange furball. “But we don’t have a mouse problem?”

“No, but I just wanted a pet,” Bilbo insisted, carrying Buttons towards the kitchenette.

Thorin followed. “But what will he do?”

Bilbo set the cat in front of a set of bowls on the floor, one of which was already marked as ‘Buttons’ in Bilbo’s flowery Shire script. “I don’t know, cat things, I suppose. Sleep a lot, play with spare bits of string, keep me company. Now, sit down, and I’ll serve up supper.”

He did as he was bid, still keeping a curious eye on the creature which happily eating what appeared to be finely chopped meat from their meal as well as a small bowl of milk. “Are you able to understand the cat?” Thorin asked as Bilbo set his meal in front of him; a hearty plate of the same venison as the cat, but with the addition of roasted root vegetables and hearty bread.

“As much as anyone understands them, I suppose,” Bilbo allowed as he sat with his own plate and then looked hard at his husband. “Ah, right, my husband, the raven whisperer.”

“I wouldn’t call it whispering…”

“No, no, it’s just an expression.” Bilbo raised a placating hand and shook his head fondly. “I forget at times that you can actually speak with the ravens and goats that work for you. I suppose it would be rather odd, then, to have an animal you can’t understand. Don’t worry, you’ll learn to read his body language in time. Mostly.” He chuckled. “You really didn’t have a pet growing up?”

“I did have a favored raven,” Thorin volunteered as he dug into his meal. “I would some days spend hours in the rookery, talking to him and bringing him little treats.”

 

The evening ended with Bilbo playing with the kitten, dragging a stray scrap of yarn around their apartment while Buttons pounced and skittered after. A shame, Thorin thought, as previous nights Bilbo had been working on his retelling of the quest. Still, everyone did deserve a night of leisure now and then, and Bilbo seemed to be having as much fun as the kitten in their little games.

Thorin stretched and rolled his shoulders, setting his quill down for the night. Mahal knew there’d be just as many petitions to read tomorrow. After dressing for bed and settling beneath the furs, Thorin couldn’t help but hope to have a little leisure time himself. The night wasn’t too old, yet, and Bilbo seemed to have ample energy.

Feeling the bed depress behind him, Thorin rolled over hoping to suggest a little play time of their own, only to roll face first into a ball of orange fur.

“Murp?”

“Ghivashel, why is the Little Beast in our bed?”

“Buttons,” Bilbo emphasized the given name, “is in our bed, because young cats typically sleep curled up with their family. He probably won’t spend the whole night,” at this he scratched the orange ears eliciting a rumbling sound. “Cat things to do, pouncing on dust bunnies and such.”

Buttons settled between their pillows, facing Bilbo to receive more ear rubs. This of course left Thorin with the less desirable end in his face, so he turned on his opposite side and blew out his lantern. 

 

Over the next several days, it seemed the Little Beast had taken up much of Bilbo’s affection. Morning kisses were interrupted by headbutts and squeaky little cries to get out of bed. Gently bumping his husband’s foot under the dinner table was disturbed by vicious pounces and far too sharp teeth sinking into his tender foot. Evening were spent entertaining the little thing with feathers, yarn balls, and ribbons.

 

Bilbo may have worried that Thorin may be jealous of the attention the new cat was receiving, except that he had spied him tickling Button’s belly with a quill when he needed a break from reports. Multiple times he also caught Thorin speaking to the cat as if he were a dwarfling that might be able to understand rules and consequences. 

“Little Beast, you know you are not allowed on this table. We have spoken of this many times, now. You will get down now, or I will set you down. You have until the count of three. One...two...three. Don’t look at me like that.” “Not now, Buttons. I told you I’ll play after I finish this treaty. No, this is my quill, we’ll play after.”

One morning when Bilbo had an early meeting, on his way out the door, he found Thorin putting a fresh bowl of minced fowl on the floor. “Thorin, what are you doing? I just fed him breakfast not an hour ago.”

Thorin straightened up with a start. “Oh. He told me he was starving.”

“Dearheart, cats always think they’re starving.”

“You mean just like Hobbits?” Thorin smirked as he watched the kitten eagerly eat his second breakfast.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and grabbed a scone off the counter for his walk. “Haha, yes, just like Hobbits, but in the future, trust that I fed him unless I tell you otherwise.”

 

On Bilbo’s late night with the ‘Ri brothers, he knew Button’s place in their home was certain. Thorin had fallen asleep in his armchair, which in itself was not an unusual occurrence on nights Bilbo was not there to tell him to go to bed at a reasonable hour, and he snored, softly compared to the rest of the company, but still snored, but the second set of rumbles was new. Buttons was curled upon Thorin’s breast, purring steadily, and held securely in one of the dwarf’s large hands.

Bilbo’s heart warmed at the sight. “Darling, time to go to bed.”

“Hm, welcome home. How was your time with the ‘Ri?” Thorin woke up slowly and set Buttons on the ground, giving Bilbo a quick kiss.

 

As they went to bed that night, Buttons walked across Thorin’s chest, then back over to Bilbo for a quick headbutt, and then finally settled between them. Thorin scratched his ears, and Buttons started licking his beard.

“I’m surprised you’re letting him touch your beard,” Bilbo chuckled. It was awfully cute to watch.

“Yes, well, he’s just trying to help me groom.”

“And you nearly took my head off the first time I offered to comb your hair.”

“Grooming is reserved for family,” Thorin replied as though this was an obvious fact.

“And he’s family now?” Bilbo reached to scratch Button’s ears.

Thorin hummed. “He’s grooming my beard, isn’t he?”

“He’s your cat-son.”

“He’s my cat-son.” Apparently Buttons thought Thorin’s beard was groomed enough and settled down with his face against Thorin’s. “Maybe I should name him my heir ahead of Fili.”

Bilbo smiled at this cute image, at least until Buttons shifted as he laid down, and he realized he was stuck with the cat butt in his face for the night.


End file.
